


Paintballing and Team-Building

by lostinafictionalworld



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, a dash of hurt/comfort, more angst than i intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinafictionalworld/pseuds/lostinafictionalworld
Summary: "I'm not going paintballing. Not again. Not after last time."

The trio goes paintballing to get to know their new housemates. Inspired by George's comment during the house meeting in 2x03.





	

“I’m not changing in the house!” George protested adamantly as he and Mitchell entered their new house. He continued his defensive tirade as he walked to the kitchen.

“Shit,” Mitchell interrupted, distracted by the words GET OUT dripping down their wall in red paint.

“Shit,” George agreed, coming over to look. After a few moments of shocked discussion, they were startled by a clatter from upstairs. They peered cautiously up the staircase.

“Go and see what that was,” Mitchell urged.

“Why am I going?” George asked. After a quick squabble and a series of increasingly loud crashes from above, the pair tentatively started up the stairs, armed with an umbrella and a cricket bat.

Another thud led them to the empty master bedroom. They burst through the door, makeshift weapons raised, and were greeted with the sight of a bored-looking young woman curled up in an armchair, picking aimlessly at her fingernails.

“Who the hell are you?” George demanded, brandishing his cricket bat defensively.

The woman looked around, as if checking to see if he had been speaking to someone behind her.

“What?” she asked, dumbfounded. “Can you see me?”

“Well of course I—who are you?” George was taken aback.

“George…” Mitchell lowered his umbrella, looking at her in sad comprehension.

“You can see me?!” she demanded excitedly, pushing herself up to sit on the arm of the chair. She waved her arms around. “Can you see me do that?”

“What—what are you talking about?” George asked, his voice getting higher pitched the more perturbed he got. This wasn’t how he had expected this encounter to go.

“George.”

“Oh my god, you can hear me too!” She jumped to her feet. “I don’t believe this!”

“You don’t believe it?” George asked incredulously before turning affronted. “Mitchell, call the police. Did you write that on our wall? That’d better come off.”

“George, hang on a second,” Mitchell said quietly.

“Oh, this is incredible!” The woman said delightedly.

“Mitchell, call the police.” George was still brandishing his cricket bat.

“No, it’s okay.” Mitchell insisted firmly, but George would not be assuaged.

“It’s certainly not okay! We’ve paid a deposit.”

“George, shut up,” Mitchell demanded. “She’s a ghost.”

“Your point being?” the woman asked loftily.

“What!?” George yelped, turning to face Mitchell. “So now you’re telling me ghosts exist too? This is mental. I’ve had about enough of this.” Mitchell ignored him.

“You’re her, then?” he asked. “The one the estate agent told us about?”

“Annie Sawyer,” she said brightly, sticking out her hand for him to shake.

“Mitchell.” He took it carefully and was surprised by how solid she felt. Her hand wasn’t like a living person’s hand; it was colder even than his own and rather soft and tingly, but still tangible.

“Oh my god, you just touched me!” Annie exclaimed, frantically excited once more. “Did you feel that? I actually felt that!!” She looked like she wanted to fling her arms around Mitchell’s neck.

“Hang on a minute,” George said, still coming to grips with the situation. “The estate agent said this place was haunted. She said that the last few people who tried to live here got driven out. So you did write that on the wall!”

“It’ll wash right up though,” she insisted earnestly. “I wouldn’t ruin my own house, after all. I’ll clean it up myself.”

“You better! And that other stuff too! That was you!” George steamrolled on. “Moving the furniture! Hiding my keys and—and my glasses! Mugs of tea all over the place! The sodding clanky taps!”

“Okay, the taps are not my fault,” Annie said defensively. “But the rest of the stuff, yeah. Who’d you think was doing it?”

“Mitchell!” George exclaimed as if it were obvious. Mitchell looked offended.

“I know vampires are arseholes, George, but I’m not stupid enough to purposely antagonize my new housemate in the first three days of living together.”

“Well you leave all your other dishes lying about! How was I supposed to know the tea wasn’t yours?”

“What?” Annie interrupted, her voice a cross between surprise and excitement. “Vampires? You’re a vampire? For real? Like Dracula?”

“Yeah, more or less.” Michell replied with a grim smile. “And George here is a werewolf. That’s why we can see you.”

“Hey!” George squawked in protest. “You can’t just go around telling random people or—or ghosts or whatever that I’m a werewolf! That’s private!”

“Well she was bound to find out anyway on the full moon when you suddenly turn into a wolf in your bedroom,” Mitchell pointed out. “If we even stay here, that is.”

“I told you, that’s not happening in the house!” George insisted. “And why on earth wouldn’t we stay here? We just moved in! We’ve paid the deposit!”

“Well, it is Annie’s house, George. We shouldn’t stay if she doesn’t want us here.”

“No!” she exclaimed, suddenly panicked. “Please don’t leave. Please. It’s just nobody’s talked to me in ages. They can’t see me. Or hear me. They just move in for a bit and intrude on my life—well I guess not really life—and they just ignore me and go on with their lives until I can’t stand it and I make them leave. Cuz that’s worse than being alone, being surrounded by people who don’t know you exist. But you can see me. Please don’t leave me alone again.”

“And you don’t mind living with us?” he asked. “Knowing what we are?”

“Of course not! I mean I’m a ghost so I can’t exactly judge. Besides, I’m already dead so it’s not like either of you could hurt me. Not that I think you would! Of course not. That’s not what I meant. I just meant it’s all fine.”

“Alright then, if you’re sure,” Mitchell agreed with a smile, though George still looked disgruntled at the whole situation. “We’ll stay.”

“Brilliant!” she squealed. “Can I make you boys some tea?”

0 0 0

“We should do a team-building thing,” Annie announced over dinner the next night.

“Team-building?” Mitchell asked skeptically, grabbing another slice of pizza from the box on the table.

“Yeah. You know, to bond and get to know each other. We’re going to be living together, after all, and I barely know anything about either of you.”

“We work at the hospital. I speak six languages. Mitchell’s from Ireland. We like Real Hustle. I’m a good cook. Mitchell can’t cook at all.” George rattled off. “What more do you want to know?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Annie replied, surprised by his curt response. “Ooh, so how long have you two been creatures of the night?”

Mitchell glowered at her. George just looked pained.

“Right. Well, where did you live before you came to Bristol? What did you do before you worked at the hospital? Do you have girlfriends or family or friends you do stuff with?”

Both men looked positively gutted just thinking about the lives they lived and lost. They stared down at the table to avoid answering.

“Oh,” Annie said quietly. “Maybe that wasn’t the best line of questioning. Er… what about pets? Do you like animals?”

“Dogs won’t leave me alone now and cats are terrified of me,” George sighed.

“Well, it’s a good job this house doesn’t allow pets then,” Annie said with forced cheer. “I don’t really trust cats anyway.”

“I like cats,” Mitchell said defensively, then sighed. “But animals in general are skittish around vampires. Maybe twenty questions isn’t really the best way to go about this.”

“How about a fun group activity then?” Annie suggested, now eager to change the subject. “We could go to karaoke night. Or how about bowling? Or paintballing! I always wanted to go paintballing!”

“Going out probably isn’t the best idea considering people can’t actually see you,” George pointed out. “People would think we’re mental, talking to somebody that’s not there. Or they’d panic seeing floating bowling balls or hearing someone invisible singing along to Beyonce.”

“But that’d be brilliant for paintballing! What an advantage!”

“Yeah but we can’t exactly rent gear for somebody that’s not there either.”

“Well what about the zoo then? It’s just walking around looking at the animals. No one would notice. It’d be fine.”

“George is right, Annie,” Mitchell agreed, though not unkindly. “It’s probably better if we stay in.”

She sighed loudly, slumping dejectedly in her chair.

“Hey, we can still do something here,” he said, not wanting to see her sad. “How about a movie night?”

“Really?” she asked, perking up a bit.

“Yeah,” Mitchell said earnestly. “Come pick something out. I’ve got decades worth of stuff to choose from.”

Twenty minutes later after digging through Mitchell’s various boxes of tapes and DVDs, the three of them were happily settled around the telly as the opening credits of _Monty Python and the Holy Grail_ played. George and Mitchell sat on the sofa, a giant bowl of popcorn between them. Annie sat curled up in a chair, a cup of tea warming her hands.

“So, Mitchell,” Annie asked after a bit, eyeing him slyly, “were you around when this was happening?” Mitchell snorted loudly, half distracted by the demise of the Black Knight.

“In 932? Jesus, Annie, I’m 116 not a thousand.” He suddenly realized he had divulged something much more personal than he had intended. He redirected quickly. “But I did bump into Eric Idle in a pub in Scotland when they were filming this in the 70s.”

“What, really?” George asked, impressed. Mitchell nodded, a huge grin on his face.

“You must have loads of great stories,” Annie pressed, but Mitchell had already closed off again.

“Hush,” he said impatiently. “We’re watching the film.”

“So were you around for Pride and Prejudice then?” she asked a while later when the boys were safely distracted by the killer rabbit.

“Pride and Prejudice was Regency era,” George corrected absently. “Turn of the century was Victorian.” Both Annie and Mitchell turned to stare at him.

“What?” He said defensively. “My girlfriend’s obsessed with the Bronte sisters. She made sure I knew the difference.”

“Girlfriend?” Annie asked.

“Ex-girlfriend,” George corrected quietly. Annie took pity on him and switched back to interrogating Mitchell.

“Victorian era, then. So did you wear the classy cravats and fitted suits and all that?”

“I lived on a farm,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I doubt it’s what you’re imagining. Before I joined the army it was just loose shirts and trousers and the occasional waistcoat. And braces. God, I miss braces. Clothes used to be so comfortable. Now it’s just belts and skinny jeans.”

Annie opened her mouth, eager to ask more questions, but he cut her off.

“Can we not do this, Annie? Please?” She nodded, catching the hurt in his voice. She stood and walked to the kitchen, almost missing his final comment, muttered under his breath. “It was along time ago.”

She returned a few minutes later with tea for George and coffee for Mitchell, an unspoken apology. She moved the popcorn bowl into Mitchell’s lap and squeezed onto the sofa between him and George. Mitchell let her lean against him and she settled in to watch the rest of the movie in silence.

0 0 0

“Someone just saw me!” Annie exclaimed delightedly, dashing in through the front door. “Like a real, actual person just saw me!”

“What?” Mitchell asked around a mouthful of cereal, an edge of concern in his voice. “You’re sure it wasn’t a vampire or something?”

“Nope! I was putting out the bin and the postman knocked into me! And then I apologized and he actually heard me!”

“Annie, that’s fantastic!” Mitchell exclaimed, happy but also relieved.

“Yeah, that sounds like some great human interaction,” George deadpanned, not even looking up from the programme he was watching. Mitchell elbowed him hard in the ribs and he yelped in protest.

“We should celebrate,” Mitchell declared, covering for George’s lack of enthusiasm.

“I’m gonna pop down to Tescos and pick up some fancy biscuits to go with our tea,” she declared. She was halfway out the door when she turned back. “Can I borrow some money from one of you? I haven’t got any.”

“No,” George said immediately. “I’m not enabling you to generate more washing up. It’s not like you can eat biscuits anyway, let alone all the tea you keep making.”

“Here,” Mitchell offered with a grin, already pulling out his wallet. “And grab me some crisps while you’re there.”

He rounded on George as soon as Annie had skipped out the door.

“Would it kill you to be nice to Annie for once?”

“I’m nice to her,” George protested. “Most of the time. But she’s driving me mad! She creates almost as much of a mess as you do! And she’s dead!”

“Technically so am I,” Mitchell glowered.

“Right. Sorry.”

“Come on, George, this is a big deal for her! She just wants to be normal, same as you and me. Making tea makes her feel normal. And now this is a huge step! Now she might actually be able to interact with other people!”

“Fine,” George sighed in resignation. “You’re right. I’ll say something nice to her when she gets back.”

“So how did it go?” he asked politely when Annie returned fifteen minutes later with four types of biscuits, three types of crisps for Mitchell, and more tea.

“Wonderfully!” she enthused. “There were only four or five people in the shop but they could all see me! And I haven’t bought anything in ages!”

“Well, it’s Mitchell’s money, so technically he bought it,” George commented. At a pointed look from Mitchell he backtracked quickly. “But that’s really great, Annie. And Mitchell’s right. We should do something to celebrate.”

“Ooh! Now can we go paintballing?”

“But we did our team-building thing,” Mitchell said, less than keen on the idea. “We’ve done a bunch of movie nights and you keep wheedling information out of us.”

“I know and that’s been lovely, but people can see me now so there’s nothing to stop us from going out.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Why not?” George asked accusingly. “It was your idea to celebrate. And you told me to be nice.”

“Oh, so you actually want to go paintballing too?” Mitchell asked, eyebrows raised. George looked like he regretted the comment, but Annie had already latched on with enthusiasm.

“Come on, Mitchell,” she pleaded. “It’ll be fun! I’ve always wanted to go.” Mitchell sighed quietly, realizing there was no easy way to get out of it now. And he hated disappointing Annie. He forced a smile.

“What the hell. Let’s do it, then.”

“Great!” she cheered. “I’ll make all the arrangements.”

0 0 0

The next weekend, Annie woke Mitchell and George bright and early, bouncing into their rooms with mugs of coffee and tea to coax them awake. By the time Mitchell finally stumbled down to the kitchen, she had breakfast waiting and lunches packed for them to take along.

“Aw thanks, Annie,” Mitchell said with a smile as he tucked into a plate of eggs and toast and second cup of coffee. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled back, sitting down to discreetly watch him eat. “Just making sure you’re ready to face the day.” From above they could hear thumps and muffled cursing as George tore through his closet and dresser looking for clothes he didn’t mind getting painty.

“Even if George isn’t,” Mitchell said with a wink. They both sniggered. Mitchell was still less than enthusiastic about the idea of paintballing, but he made an effort to be positive for Annie’s sake.

George finally emerged wearing wellies and entirely too many layers for someone who spent one night a month running naked through the woods. After waiting for him to eat and listening to him grumble about the light drizzle outside, they finally set off.

“Can you actually get that far away from the house?” George asked Annie as they piled into Mitchell’s car. “Do you have a range for that sort of thing?”

“Gosh,” she replied, brought up short. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I’ve never really tried to go anywhere.”

“Well you made it to Tescos the other day,” Mitchell pointed out encouragingly, starting off down the street. “If you can make it a few blocks, you can make it a few miles. Besides, I’ve met other ghosts that get out and about just fine. I know this one bloke that always comes to 80s night down at the pub. You should do just fine.”

As predicted, Annie was still in the car with them when they pulled up to the paintball center half an hour later, though she was practically vibrating out of her seat with excitement. They got checked in without incident and went to get kitted up.

“Are you sure that’s what you want to wear, love?” asked the man who was issuing helmets and body armor, looking over Annie’s thin clothing and loose boots with a skeptical eye. “That won’t offer much padding if you get hit in the wrong spot and that might not be the best footwear for mud. ”

“I’ll be fine,” Annie replied nonchalantly, subconsciously tugging her wrap tighter around her shoulders.

“You can borrow my jacket if you want,” Mitchell offered as they walked away, gear in hand.

“No, really, it’s fine,” Annie said, pulling on her kit. “You’re the one that’s always cold and nothing can actually hurt me. And these clothes don’t stain either.”

“That must be nice,” George commented. “You know, never having to worry about stains or doing washing.”

“Yeah,” Annie replied sarcastically. “The perks of being stuck in the clothes I died in.” She pulled her helmet on and walked off to collect her gun and ammo. George finished struggling into his body armor and he and Mitchell hurried after her.

After arming themselves, they were issued red arm bands and met up with the other people—four boys and three girls who looked about college-aged, a couple in their mid-thirties, and three boys who looked about twelve or thirteen—who would be on their team.

“Hello, little man,” George said to one of the boys, “Is this your first time paintballing too?”

“No,” the boy replied as if it was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. His two friends laughed. “We’ve been coming here for years.”

“Right,” George said. “Nevermind.” He retreated back to where Annie and Mitchell were standing. “We’re going to die.”

“Relax,” Mitchell said. “It’s just paint. What harm can it do?”

“So you’re new to this, then?” one of the college girls asked, having overheard George’s exchange.

“Yeah,” Annie replied. “And I suppose you’re not?”

“We’ve been a few times,” she said, waving her friends over. “It’s loads of fun and you’ll pick it up really fast.”

They all chatted for a while as they waited until it was time to start. The three of them picked up some tips from the more experienced players and Annie luxuriated in being able to talk to people.

Finally it was time for the instructions and safety lesson. George looked rather nervous and Annie looked like she wanted to be taking notes. Mitchell only half listened, familiar enough with the mechanics of the guns  
and the basics of tactics. Instead he fidgeted with the ammo cartridge on his gun and tried not to remember the last time he’d held a weapon.

At last it was time to begin and they headed out of the building and into the trees. For the first round, their task was to defend a small wooden fortress and keep the opposing team from capturing their flag. The three of them climbed up onto the walkway around the ramparts with a few of their teammates while the most experienced players stayed below to guard the gates and the flag.

As soon as the whistle blew, the other team started advancing through the trees towards the fortress walls. George poked his head up above the battlements only to dive back down in alarm as several rounds whizzed past his head.

“Why did you think this was a good idea?” he asked Annie. “How is fearing for your life supposed to be fun?”

Annie peeked through a gap in the wall, then popped up to take out two attackers running towards the gate.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “This seems pretty fun to me.”

Mitchell chuckled at her enthusiasm and sent a volley at another opponent as she dove behind a tree. A moment later George stood up again to take another shot and immediately let out a startled yelp as two rounds neon yellow paint splattered across his chest.

“Oh, too bad, George,” Annie said sympathetically, shooting over the wall in retaliation.

“Yeah,” Mitchell agreed straightfaced. “Now you’re dead too.”

“Hilarious.”

The twenty-minute round went quickly. When the ref finally called time, they had only just managed to hold off the other team and only Annie and two others on their team were left standing, but it was enough to win the round. They had a few minutes to grab a drink of water, collect themselves, and clean off the paint as best they could before they were back out on the field, this time as the attackers.

“We should hold back and let the more experienced people attack first,” George suggested from his position behind a crate. “That makes the most sense.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Mitchell called back, now fully engaged in the game. He dashed forward to duck behind a tree. “We have unlimited lives this round. If we get hit we just go get cleaned off and come back.”

“Fine,” George sighed as Annie dove behind a barricade near Mitchell’s position. “Go be heroes then and I’ll cover you.”

Mitchell advanced toward the next cover as George sent a spray of paintballs in the general direction of the fortress wall. Annie stepped out to join Mitchell and was instantly splattered with paint from three different directions. She jumped in surprise and suddenly vanished to reappear behind a tree three feet to the left.

“Annie, you can’t do that!” George hissed at her. “Someone could see you.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “It just startled me is all.”

“If you’re going to rentaghost around, at least go in and grab the flag,” Mitchell suggested with a wink.

“No! Do _not_ do that!” George squawked. “That’s cheating! And someone _will_ see you!”

“Oh alright then,” Annie said with an exaggerated sigh. “I suppose we’ll shield the world from supernatural encounters today.” She winked at Mitchell and headed back to their base to get cleaned up so she could rejoin the game.

George cautiously advanced to Mitchell’s position, then covered Mitchell while he made a run at the gate. Mitchell took out the last guard at the gate and made it through the archway only to be taken out by someone on the ramparts.

“Oh, sod it,” George muttered, then stepped out from behind his tree to charge toward the fortress bellowing, “Who wants some of my paint?”

George was taken out as well but their run made enough of a distraction that three more of their teammates made it inside the walls. A few short bursts of gunfire later and they had captured the flag. Their team cheered as the ref called an end to the round.

They had another short break and moved on to the next playing field. This arena was a zombie graveyard, the wooded area scattered with cut out headstones. Their team was on defense again playing as zombies. Their task was keep the attacking humans from stealing a relic from a crypt that allowed the zombies to respawn.

“How ironic,” George muttered under his breath as they took up their positions. “A vampire, a ghost, and a werewolf masquerading as zombies.” Annie snorted.

“Why don’t you lot guard the crypt while we try to take out the humans?” one of the college girls suggested to them as their team started taking up positions. “It’s pretty defensible and you can just call for backup if you get hit and need to respawn.”

“Alright,” Annie agreed cheerfully, dragging George and Mitchell towards the crypt. It was a small wooden building, not much bigger than a shed, with large open doors on either side. Mitchell squinted uneasily at the crucifix over the door before ducking inside and taking up position at the opposite door.

“See, George,” Annie said, not noticing Mitchell’s discomfort, “we’re doing great! They even trust us with the flag now.”

“Yeah or they want the expendable players as the main target,” George replied tiredly as she positioned him in front of the alter holding few more crucifixes and a very battered and paint-smudged book that was their zombie relic. “That might be a bit more accurate.

“Hush,” Annie ordered dismissively, guarding the other door and readying her gun as the whistle blew.

The arena was eerily still. From their position in the crypt, their teammates were out of sight and the other team’s players were hiding behind trees and tombstones to either side of the building. They waited for several long moments.

Suddenly there was a flurry of motion and a small round object came sailing in through Mitchell’s door. Mitchell leapt backward away from it and George let out a shriek of alarm as smoke billowed out and started to fill the tiny room.

Annie and George hurriedly stumbled out of the building, coughing and spluttering, but Mitchell wasn’t so lucky. Three opposing players came storming in through the door before he could move.

“Stay back, demon!” one of them shouted. He snatched a crucifix off the alter and brandished at Mitchell. Mitchell flinched backward and stumbled into a corner. Between the haze of smoke and his mask, nobody notice his eyes flash black.

“Oh my god, Calvin,” one of the others said exasperatedly, shooting back out the door at someone. “I told you, zombies aren’t even demons. That only works for vampires and shit.”

“I know but it sounds cool.”

“Shut it, both of you,” the third player sighed, snatching the book from the alter. “I got it. Let’s just get out of here.”

After they darted out of the building, it took Mitchell a long moment to collect himself enough to stumble out to where Annie and George were waiting.

“Are you alright?” George asked worriedly, grabbing Mitchell’s elbow to steady him. Sporadic pops of gunfire sounded from the other side of the building.

“I’m fine. Just the smoke.” He let out a belated bout of coughing. The whistle sounded, ending the round, and they could hear the other team cheering. Mitchell pulled off his mask and rubbed a hand across his face, pulling his arm free from George’s grip in the process.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Annie asked as they headed back to their team’s base. She sounded even more concerned than George. “You look awfully pale. I mean, more than usual.”

“I told you, it’s nothing,” Mitchell replied brusquely, pushing his mop of curls back and pulling his mask on again.

Before either of them could press him more, the girl who had become their unofficial captain came over to where they were standing.

“Bad luck,” she said sympathetically. “There’s no way you could have known they’d use a smoke grenade. Besides, we’re still ahead and we’ll get ‘em this time.” Mitchell made a point of nodding enthusiastically, Annie and George less so.

“We’re thinking of trying a split attack for this one,” she said continued. “We’ll send two groups, one to either side, to attack their main force and hopefully leave a clear approach to the crypt so a third group can run in and grab it. How about you three head around and try to flank them from the right.”

“Sure,” Mitchell agreed and set off through the brush as the whistle blew, eager to escape George and Annie’s concerned scrutiny.

The two of them hurried after Mitchell and George promptly tripped over a branch, landing sprawled across the ground. To be fair, the new moon had been a few days earlier so he was about as far from peak performance as possible.

“That was graceful,” Annie observed drily, offering a hand to pull him to his feet. He ignored her and clambered to his feet, staggering sideways as he tried to dust himself off at the same time.

Mitchell had kept moving, on edge and completely focused on the game, and was now several yards ahead, creeping stealthily through the trees. He heard movement up ahead and hurried forward to jump out of the trees at one of their opponents.

The man jumped in fright and stumbled backwards. He tripped over a rock with a curse and fell backwards, dropping his gun in the process.

“I surrender!” he blurted out, raising his hands. One hand was bleeding, cut when the man had broken his fall.

Mitchell stalked closer, his gun still trained on the man as he zeroed in on the man’s bleeding hand.

“I said I surrender!” the man shouted as Mitchell loomed over him. He looked panicked behind his mask. He couldn’t have been much older than twenty.

“Mitchell?” Annie asked tentatively, coming up behind him. “What are you doing?” He didn’t seem to hear her.

“Leave him alone,” she continued. “He surrendered. Besides, we’re not allowed to shoot people this close anyways.” Mitchell reached down to grab the man’s outstretched hand.

“Mitchell!” George said firmly, grabbing his arm to pull him back. Mitchell immediately spun around and unloaded half a dozen rounds directly into George’s chest. He stumbled backwards, breath leaving him in a pained grunt.

“Ow!” George shouted a few moments later when he could force air back into his lungs. “Bloody hell, Mitchell! What the hell did you do that for?”

Mitchell froze, suddenly realizing what he’d done. He dropped his gun and tugged off his mask, his face ashen.

“Oh god. George, I’m so sorry. Shit, I didn’t mean to do that. Shit.”

0 0 0

“Okay, so explain to us what happened back there,” Annie ordered as she steered Mitchell towards the sofa and pressed a mug of coffee into his hands. He had remained silent the entire drive back to the house. George emerged from the kitchen a moment later, an ice pack pressed to his very bruised chest.

“I almost killed someone,” Mitchell burst out angrily. “That’s what happened.”

“I know, but why?” she asked. “Was it the blood?”

“It can’t be just that,” George said before Mitchell could answer. “We work in a hospital, for Christ’s sake. He’s around blood all the time, and usually a lot more than just a scraped hand.”

“You don’t understand,” Mitchell said darkly, his voiced edged with loathing. “It’s an endless struggle. The hunger is constant. The bloodlust. I don’t want to hurt people, I really don’t, but no matter what I do, there’s always that part of me that wants to kill people. It doesn’t take much for that part to win.”

“So what happened today?”

“It won.”

“But you didn’t kill anybody today!” Annie insisted. “It didn’t win.”

“Today,” Mitchell replied bitterly. “And what about tomorrow? Or the next day? I’m a killer, Annie. I’ve killed so many people. It’s only a matter of time before it happens again.”

“Jesus, Mitchell,” George demanded, “stop being dramatic and avoiding the question and just tell us what the hell happened. What set you off today so we can keep it from happening again?” Mitchell sighed and dragged a gloved hand through his hair. He realized there would be no escaping this conversation.

“It was the paintballing,” he said finally. “I was in the first World War. And the second. The paintballing made me remember what it was like.”

“Oh, Mitchell,” Annie said softly.

“So it was fear then,” George said. “Or stress.”

“No. Well partly at the beginning. Before I was turned it was like that all the time. Never knowing what was going to happen. Or when. Not having any control over your situation.

“But then I got turned and everything was different. Then it was just hunger and blood. The war didn’t matter anymore, even the one between vampires and werewolves. They used to talk about it, the ones who recruited me, but they didn’t care about the fighting anymore, just the killing.

“It was the perfect situation. Men were dying by the thousands. Everyone was too preoccupied with staying alive themselves to pay attention to how anyone else died. It was the perfect feeding ground. We killed, and we were good at it.

“And today it all came back. Some kid shoved a crucifix in my face when they raided the crypt and all those instincts snapped back into place. To have a gun in my hand, stalking down people in the woods, hunting them. It was just instinct.”

“Mitchell, why didn’t you say anything?” Annie asked. “We’re your friends. If you had just told us, we could have left before anything happened. We never would have made you go in the first place.”

“I wasn’t exactly keen on the idea but I thought it would be fine. It all happened sixty years ago, a lifetime ago. I thought it was behind me. That I could control it.”

“Okay, new house rules,” Annie announced. “One: team bonding will be limited to movie nights from now on. “

“Thank Christ,” George exclaimed, dropping onto the sofa next to Mitchell and readjusting his ice pack. “I never want to go paintballing again as long as I live.”

“And two,” Annie continued, ignoring George’s outburst, “we’re here to help each other, so we tell each other if we don’t want to do things or when things start to go wrong.” She stared them down until they both nodded in agreement.

“Excellent,” Annie said with a clap of her hands. “Now time for movie night. How about something funny? _Black Books_ maybe, or _Laurel and Hardy_?”

And so the three of them settled in for a quiet night, all appreciating each other a bit more than they had before.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this months ago and was never quite pleased with the ending but I was clearing out my WIPs and thought I'd post it anyway. Obviously these lovely characters belong to Toby Whithouse and BBC and not me, as does the first half of the first scene, which was taken from the deleted scene Hider in the House. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. I'm American so I apologize for any mistakes in word choice and phrasing. Everything I know about paintballing came from the internet so I apologize for inaccuracies there as well. Thanks for reading!


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